Larry David: "I've actually never seen the vagina with my glasses on."
"It's all just a big fuzzy mystery to me."
A hurricane is really just a hundred-mile wide pain in the ass. There’s no fear to be had living in a concrete house, cause you know it would take a mushroom cloud to bring the roof down. So, for upwards of the 36 hours that a storm will last, you’re sequestered into your home with nothing to do but sleep, listen to weather updates on the radio, and play what seems to be a never-ending succession of Scrabble games. Fortunately, Ernesto consisted of about two minutes of rainfall and gusts of about 10 miles an hour; so really, the worst part of it was preparing for the storm.
My mom had decided that we wouldn’t be putting up shutters when she got a call from Nidhi asking if we could move all of her outdoor furniture inside. My mom, being extremely more giving than I am, agreed. We went over to their house, which is actually a carbon copy of our McMansion located a half mile down the road. I had no idea that their outdoor furniture consisted of: a tall table with two bar chairs, a lower table with four winged chairs, two chairs and a loveseat for both the porch and front balcony, a small table and chair set on the back balcony, and an outdoor pool table.
Dan: “Why in the hell would two people with no friends to entertain need so much outdoor furniture?
Nidhi, for those of you who don’t know, is extremely anal. This is somebody who’s made me take off my shoes every time I’ve walked into her house for fear of dirtying up the carpet, and now I’m expected to go over and move her shit. The inside of her house looks as though nobody’s ever lived there. I’ve never seen a kitchen that was so devoid of any proof that anyone had ever cooked in it. But, then again, I’m not really sure she has ever cooked in it.
After about an hour of moving around chairs that weighed about fifty pounds, I was really fed up with the whole situation. Nidhi was constantly calling, making sure that we moved in every individual piece from the outside. She insisted that we move in a pair of planters filled with gravel, at which time I blew up.
Dan: “There’s no way I’m moving those. They’ve got to weigh a hundred pounds each. If Zeus himself were to descend from the heavens and blow his mighty breath this way, they would not move. No.”
If there’s one thing I learned from the whole experience, it’s that those who aren’t directly related to my Mom are far more important her than those who are, because we had to move the shit anyway. Greg came over after an hour and half of us being in there. He walked into the garage, which she had converted into a room with a large wrap-around couch and carpeting.
Greg: “What the fuck is the purpose of this room? It’s got no TV, and nothing to entertain.”
Jeff: “I guess you’re just supposed to come in here and sit.”
Dan: “This room would be the perfect smoking lounge, but she’d never let you smoke in here.”
Greg: “I thought I was fucked up . . .and that’s by my own admission.”
We had just considered ourselves done when Nidhi called once more, remembering this time that her new car was parked under a tree behind the house, and asking if we could move it.
Dan: “FUCK YO HOUSE!”
We had to unlock the doors, turn off the alarm, get her car keys, turn the alarm back on, and lock the doors again. My mom hopped in the car and we drove to the Abacoa parking garage. My mom, under the guidance of Nidhi via cell phone, decided not to park on the empty first or second floor, but instead to head to the third, and try out three different spaces to see which one the car fit into best. Jeff and I were noticeably pissed were sitting anxiously for fifteen minutes as Nidhi explained to my mom how to turn off the car properly.
At this point, “September” by Earth Wind and Fire came on the radio. And I began to flash the high beams to the rhythm. Jeff mocked me for a second, but I really got into it, turning on the emergency blinkers and blasting the stereo. The two of us began to dance in our seats and Jeff opened and slammed the door in time. Midway through the song and we had a two person danceathon going on. When the song was finally over, we found our Mom standing beside the car, looking perplexed as to what was going on inside.
Fuck Nidhi.
The following conversation took place on Tuesday, August 29 at 11:40 pm:
Braddy: “Hey.”
Dan: “Hey.”
Braddy: “What’s up?”
Dan: “Just watching ‘Top Gun’ on Spike.”
Braddy: “Oh, ‘Top Gun’ is one of my favorites.”
Dan: “It’s pretty entertaining.”
Braddy: “Did you get to the part where Tom Cruise is, like, about to pounce Val Kilmer and have sex with him?”
Dan: “No.”
Braddy: “Where they’re in the gym, and Iceman is like ‘You’re Dangerous’ and Maverick is like ‘I know I’m dangerous’.”
Dan: “I think I missed that part.”
Braddy: “That movie is riddled with homosexual overtones.”
Dan: “Now that you mention it, the contrails on these jets do make it seem like these guys are crossing swords.”
Braddy: “Riddled. Are you doing anything tonight.”
Dan’s Inner Monologue: “I’m unshowered, unshaven, I haven’t brushed my teeth, I have a rash on my inner thighs, half and erection, and I’ve had four beers.”
Dan: “Uh. . .I think I’m staying in tonight.”
A hurricane is really just a hundred-mile wide pain in the ass. There’s no fear to be had living in a concrete house, cause you know it would take a mushroom cloud to bring the roof down. So, for upwards of the 36 hours that a storm will last, you’re sequestered into your home with nothing to do but sleep, listen to weather updates on the radio, and play what seems to be a never-ending succession of Scrabble games. Fortunately, Ernesto consisted of about two minutes of rainfall and gusts of about 10 miles an hour; so really, the worst part of it was preparing for the storm.
My mom had decided that we wouldn’t be putting up shutters when she got a call from Nidhi asking if we could move all of her outdoor furniture inside. My mom, being extremely more giving than I am, agreed. We went over to their house, which is actually a carbon copy of our McMansion located a half mile down the road. I had no idea that their outdoor furniture consisted of: a tall table with two bar chairs, a lower table with four winged chairs, two chairs and a loveseat for both the porch and front balcony, a small table and chair set on the back balcony, and an outdoor pool table.
Dan: “Why in the hell would two people with no friends to entertain need so much outdoor furniture?
Nidhi, for those of you who don’t know, is extremely anal. This is somebody who’s made me take off my shoes every time I’ve walked into her house for fear of dirtying up the carpet, and now I’m expected to go over and move her shit. The inside of her house looks as though nobody’s ever lived there. I’ve never seen a kitchen that was so devoid of any proof that anyone had ever cooked in it. But, then again, I’m not really sure she has ever cooked in it.
After about an hour of moving around chairs that weighed about fifty pounds, I was really fed up with the whole situation. Nidhi was constantly calling, making sure that we moved in every individual piece from the outside. She insisted that we move in a pair of planters filled with gravel, at which time I blew up.
Dan: “There’s no way I’m moving those. They’ve got to weigh a hundred pounds each. If Zeus himself were to descend from the heavens and blow his mighty breath this way, they would not move. No.”
If there’s one thing I learned from the whole experience, it’s that those who aren’t directly related to my Mom are far more important her than those who are, because we had to move the shit anyway. Greg came over after an hour and half of us being in there. He walked into the garage, which she had converted into a room with a large wrap-around couch and carpeting.
Greg: “What the fuck is the purpose of this room? It’s got no TV, and nothing to entertain.”
Jeff: “I guess you’re just supposed to come in here and sit.”
Dan: “This room would be the perfect smoking lounge, but she’d never let you smoke in here.”
Greg: “I thought I was fucked up . . .and that’s by my own admission.”
We had just considered ourselves done when Nidhi called once more, remembering this time that her new car was parked under a tree behind the house, and asking if we could move it.
Dan: “FUCK YO HOUSE!”
We had to unlock the doors, turn off the alarm, get her car keys, turn the alarm back on, and lock the doors again. My mom hopped in the car and we drove to the Abacoa parking garage. My mom, under the guidance of Nidhi via cell phone, decided not to park on the empty first or second floor, but instead to head to the third, and try out three different spaces to see which one the car fit into best. Jeff and I were noticeably pissed were sitting anxiously for fifteen minutes as Nidhi explained to my mom how to turn off the car properly.
At this point, “September” by Earth Wind and Fire came on the radio. And I began to flash the high beams to the rhythm. Jeff mocked me for a second, but I really got into it, turning on the emergency blinkers and blasting the stereo. The two of us began to dance in our seats and Jeff opened and slammed the door in time. Midway through the song and we had a two person danceathon going on. When the song was finally over, we found our Mom standing beside the car, looking perplexed as to what was going on inside.
Fuck Nidhi.
The following conversation took place on Tuesday, August 29 at 11:40 pm:
Braddy: “Hey.”
Dan: “Hey.”
Braddy: “What’s up?”
Dan: “Just watching ‘Top Gun’ on Spike.”
Braddy: “Oh, ‘Top Gun’ is one of my favorites.”
Dan: “It’s pretty entertaining.”
Braddy: “Did you get to the part where Tom Cruise is, like, about to pounce Val Kilmer and have sex with him?”
Dan: “No.”
Braddy: “Where they’re in the gym, and Iceman is like ‘You’re Dangerous’ and Maverick is like ‘I know I’m dangerous’.”
Dan: “I think I missed that part.”
Braddy: “That movie is riddled with homosexual overtones.”
Dan: “Now that you mention it, the contrails on these jets do make it seem like these guys are crossing swords.”
Braddy: “Riddled. Are you doing anything tonight.”
Dan’s Inner Monologue: “I’m unshowered, unshaven, I haven’t brushed my teeth, I have a rash on my inner thighs, half and erection, and I’ve had four beers.”
Dan: “Uh. . .I think I’m staying in tonight.”